Fear

FIFTY-THREE

Nathan had a dollar fifty in quarters he’d stolen from the blind soldier’s room and he fed a few into the pay phone at the gas station. Stealing from a blind guy, God, he was classy. He wiped the tears and snot from his face with his sleeve. He had a wallet with five hundred dollars in cash and a photo ID Dodd had slipped him back in Yosemite, a ticket to reenter society after his mission at Sangre de Cristo. But he had had no change to operate the phone, and five hundred dollars might not be enough money to do what he knew he must do. His legs hurt, his back ached from the beating Groote had given him back in Santa Fe, and he didn’t want to be alone. But he would be, until he finished his duty.

His mother answered on the third ring.

‘Mama? I’m out of the hospital. I’m all fixed.’

‘Sweetheart? Oh, thank God,’ then a torrent of Spanish. He waited for her words to subside and he tried to laugh so she would believe he was happy.

‘I need a favor, Mama. I’m not in Santa Fe. They moved me to a different hospital near Los Angeles to finish the treatments.’

‘I don’t understand…’ and she started in with the questions, rat-a-tat, and he closed his eyes.

‘Mama,’ he interrupted her, ‘I got to have money. To eat, to get home.’ But he wasn’t going home. No. He had to finish being a hero first.